Harry Potter and the Fellowship of the Ring
by xDaNcEkItTyx
Summary: Harry Potter people meet LOTR people. Yeah. oo
1. Purple Cardboard Boxes

(Author's note:  This story is going to be kinda a cross of many different things… Harry Potter, LOTR, and anything else I decide to slap in.  This story takes place in the middle of The Order of the Phoenix and after the Journey of the Ring in LOTR.  I don't take credit for or own any of the characters except a few that I made up.  Enjoy.  :D  I'm sorry, there isn't much LOTR until the next chapter or two.)

Harry Potter awoke early one morning with a start.  Sitting up in his four-poster bed, he rubbed the scar on his forehead sleepily.  It was very early in the morning, for Harry could barely see in the dim twilight.  Squinting around the room, he could barely make out the outlines of other four-poster beds around him.  Taking a closer look at one of the dark shapes, he could now see Ron Weasley's face, content and asleep, snoring loudly.  Harry gave a sigh of relief.  That must have been what woke him… 

The fifteen-year-old boy jumped a bit when the dark sleeping figure of his best friend stirred and mumbled, as if he knew someone had been staring at him.  Heaving another sigh of embarrassed relief, Harry turned to one of the other figures.  Brow furrowed, he could make out the features of Dean Thomas, one of his other friends.  Dean appeared to be having a dream of some sort, as his face looked troubled and his eyes were squinted slightly.  

Harry stood and walked slowly and carefully over to the large window.  The Sun was creeping up over the horizon, casting an unnatural orangey glow on the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.  Harry gazed at it absent-mindedly for a while, remembering the many adventures that had taken place there.  The only thing that broke his gaze was a single wooden arrow shooting up from the canopies.  It seemed to break the morning's light, as the sun glinted off of it, making Harry squint.  He stared out at the forest for a moment longer, wondering what on Earth it could be he'd just saw.  

Shaking his head slightly, he placed his mind on other things.  He'd suddenly remembered the report on the importance of Direction-Following that Professor Umbridge, the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, had given him.  He grunted a bit in frustration as the toad-like woman's smirking image flooded his mind.  Shaking his head again to rid himself of the terrible picture, he picked up his unfinished report off his nightstand, and descended the stairs as quietly as he could.

As he rounded the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, he was not too surprised to find one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, sitting in a large sagging sofa near the fireplace.  She appeared to be weaving something, and Harry assumed that it was another of her little hats.  '_She's been taking this SPEW thingy way too seriously lately…'_ Thought Harry as he made his way to the common room table.

            "  Good morning, Harry," Hermione had spoken to him without looking up from her work before he'd even reached the table.  

            "  I half expected you to be working on your report for Umbridge… or have you finished it?"  Harry eyed Hermione sarcastically for a moment as he reclined on the scarlet sofa beside her, which sunk pathetically beneath his weight.  When she didn't respond, he continued.  "  Haven't started on mine yet."

            "  Me neither."  She spoke again without looking up from her weaving, and Harry emitted a pretend gasp of shock.  "  Don't plan on it 'till tonight."

            Harry sat dumbstruck for a moment.  What was wrong with her?  She didn't seem to care as much as she used to about schoolwork… Perhaps it was because she despised the old fart of a teacher they had?  He decided not to continue with the subject, but instead work on his report.

            "  Today you will be working on Advanced Object-Making Spells," Professor McGonagall announced to her Transfiguration class, eyeing Neville Longbottom with a grim smirk. "The spell words are written on the board," she continued, waving her wand at the large board.  The words '_Objectus Flobbocharlius Alpha' _appeared in ghostly white writing on the board as she flicked her wand and continued.  "  I will now demonstrate…"

            McGonagall flicked her wand briskly at an earthworm that was lying on her desk and repeated the words.  The class watched, amazed, as the earthworm swelled up to about ten times its size, and took the shape of a purple cardboard box.  The box sizzled a bit at having reached its full shape, and McGonagall smirked again at Neville, whose mouth had fallen open in amazement.  

            The scattered expressions of '_Objectus Flobbocharlius Alpha' _filled the room as the students tried out their newfound spell.  Harry was quite pleased to see his earthworm assume the form of a cardboard box, though its color remained the orangey brown of the earthworm.  '_At least I got it to change a little', _Harry thought as he looked over at Ron's project.  Ron's earthworm had swollen up to ten times its usual size, but had remained a worm, and was now wriggling on his lap.  Casting a glance over to Hermione's table, he was not surprised to see a large purple box sitting on the wooden, aged desk.  He didn't even dare to look over at Neville's table, but when he did, he saw that the worm hadn't changed a bit.  Sighing, he picked up the box, which wriggled slightly in his arms, and made his way up to the professor's desk.

            Harry climbed the old, stone steps beside Hermione and Ron.  His two friends had been arguing about S.P.E.W again, like they usually did when they couldn't find anything else to talk about.  Harry had ignored the matter, and had broken off from the line after his friends had turned down the corridor to the Great Hall.  Harry had decided to skip lunch today, and work on his report.  He climbed the steps to the library, sighing a bit, his parchment and quills in hand.

            As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping his parchment and quill.  He stood dumbstruck, before coming to his senses and bending down to pick up his things.  He'd been startled, and he felt very embarrassed, which was why his ears were a bright reddish color.  Looking up at the person who'd startled him, he stared in wonder.

            A few feet before him stood a short man, with a thick braided beard and grim face.  He was coated in layers of thick armor, and wore a bronze helm on his seemingly oversized head.  As Harry straightened himself, he found that this little man was a good three feet shorter than him, and was looking up at him expectantly.  Strapped to his back was a large, silver battle-axe.  

"  Ya better watch where yer goin'!"  Shouted the little guy with angered enthusiasm.  Harry just stood and stared.  

"  What ya looking at?  Never seen a Dwarf before?"

The little man's face was now red hot with frustration at Harry's silence.  He'd opened his mouth again, but no words came out.  He swiveled around briskly to find that Harry hadn't been staring at him, but he was staring at a huge, orange creature.  The creature looked like a shark, but it had the legs of a chicken and had a large mohawk on its head.

Harry instinctively whipped out his wand at the exact same time that the Dwarf had whipped out his axe.  Both stood poised, like cobras ready to strike.  Deciding to make the first move, Harry stepped before the Dwarf and waved his wand briskly in the creature's direction, dropping his things once again.  Words escaped his mouth as he uttered the first thing that came to mind.

'Objectus Flobbocharlius Alpha…' 


	2. Quite a Different Forest

The large orange shark-like creature's chicken-like legs had begun to change into doorknobs, and its head was becoming oddly box-shaped.  The creature screeched with rage, and a glob of green substance shot out at Harry from what looked like its eyeball.  Suffocating, Harry fell to the ground, the horrible sound of screeching still flooding his ears, blinding his other senses.  Had his spell worked?  He knew disappointedly as he felt his legs crumble beneath him, that it probably hadn't.  After all, he'd just learned it earlier that day…

Harry awoke to the throbbing pain of his left leg, which seemed to have been popped out of its socket.  He tried to sit up, but as he did his hip joint gave a low grinding noise, and he lied back down hastily.  What had happened?  The last thing he could remember was the sight of the strange orange creature, which had doorknobs for legs, and the little dwarf, who'd stepped boldly in front of him, axe in hand.  He smiled with little satisfaction… at least his spell had worked.  

Throwing a glance at his right, he spotted the strange dwarf approaching his bed slowly.  The battle-axe was strapped to his back once again, and his face contained a look of grief.  He sat on a chair next to Harry's cot, smiling grimly.

"  You alright?"

The strange Dwarf gave Harry a strange and sorrowful It-Was-All-My-Fault look, as he eyed the scar on his forehead.  Harry tried to stir a bit, but was unsuccessful.  When Harry failed to respond, the strange little man continued.

"  I'm Gimli, son of Gloin, forever at your service."

If not for the horrible pain Harry felt at the moment, he might have laughed at the names.  Gloin?  Wasn't that some body part or something?  Trying hard not to giggle, he shook off the thought and replied solemnly.

"  Harry Potter… er… at your …service."  The reply sounded very strange coming out of his mouth, but he ignored that fact.  He assumed it best to return the favor.

Gimli smiled a bit with satisfaction.  He leaned closer to Harry's bed, cringing slightly as if something smelled bad.  He seemed to have noticed Harry's questioning look at his grimace, and replied.

"  That stuff it shot at you… Nasty stuff…"  It was obvious that Gimli was at loss of words at the moment.  He knew it might be painful to talk about the incident so soon; he would wait until later to bring it up.  When Harry failed to respond again, the Dwarf continued.

"  And a nasty color, too."

Two fifth-year students, who were rushing in, dressed in Gryffindor robes and wearing little gold and scarlet badges on their chests, interrupted Gimli.  One had very bushy hair and slightly protruding front teeth, and the other was tall and lanky, with bright red hair and many freckles.  The two rushed over to the bed, breathing heavily and leaning over Harry as if he were some lab experiment.  Their gaze flickered over Harry, as if expecting to see some fatal bloody wound on him.  They seemed to ignore Gimli, as they examined their best friend.

"  Are you alright?  Harry!  Speak to me, Harry!"  Hermione screamed in a rushed voice.  She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him frantically, as if he were some person that had just been rescued from drowning in the ocean.

Harry let out a yell, breathing heavily.  

"  I'm alright, Hermione."

She let out a sigh of relief, and then her expression changed.  The relieved look that had stayed on her face for a split second soon changed to anger.

"  HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY WORRY ME LIKE THAT!  YOU KNOW RON AND I WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!  HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN, YOU IRRESPONSIBLE-"

Hermione sat dumbstruck, her mouth hanging open as if someone had pressed the 'off' switch.  Gimli had hit her hard across the back, and was now grimacing at her slightly.  

"  Shut up, already!"  He growled, in an annoyed and angered tone.  Ron stared at him awestruck, for you'd have to have lots of nerve to slap Hermione like that.  The Dwarf seemed to have noticed the prefect's gaze upon him, and turned to him.

"  What?"  He snapped at Ron, who said nothing.  Harry passed out.

Legolas the Elf moved like a ghostly shadow through the thick, dark trees.  It was a strangely dim morning, and he found himself squinting desperately ahead, good as his eyes were.  His hand was clutching his bow very tightly; his breaths fell hard and uneven.  He'd never been in a forest like this before, not even Mirkwood had been as dense and dark as this.  And he'd never hunted anything like what he was hunting now.  And he'd never been hunted by whatever was hunting him now.

He stopped for a breath, and reclined back against the roots of a large tree, gaze darting back and forth, left and right, half-expecting to see the dark-cloaked creature that had he'd seen moments before.  When nothing came into view, he heaved a sigh and stood again.  No sooner had he stood, than the cloaked creature appeared from behind the tree, and floated disturbingly toward him.  

Instinctively, he raised his bow and set an arrow to the string.  Hardly checking to ensure perfect aim, he let fly the arrow.  To his great dismay, the arrow had passed directly through the creature and bounced strangely off the roots of the tree as if it were rubber.  The arrow had been sent flying up into the air, and he watched it ascend the treetops, splitting into the sunlight.

He looked over the creature warily, stepping back.  He found it no use to draw the twin swords on his back, for surely they'd just pass right through the creature like the arrow had done.  Legolas stepped back, wide-eyed, breathing hard.  What was he to do?

He awoke in a dingy, dim cabin, which to his disgust smelled strongly of raw meat.  He twitched, startled to find himself being watched by a quite large, slobbering black hound.  Its gaze pierced him, but he didn't feel much like moving.  Sitting up, he felt his head throb painfully.  Putting a slender hand to his forehead, he looked around the cabin.  He could see a large, black haired man with his back turned, sitting at a table.  He appeared to be reading something, if even he was capable of reading.  Very much relieved, Legolas found no sign of the horrid creature that had attacked him before.  As his thought rested upon it, he felt a terrible, unspeakable sadness flood his mind…

Hagrid turned around with a start, having heard the Elf's sob of mental pain.  He made his way over to the bed hurriedly, crouching so as not to hit his large head on the wooden ceiling.  He held up a silver flask, and forced some of the drink down his throat.

Legolas calmed down, but was now cringing at the horrid taste of the drink.  The giant chuckled a deep, hearty laugh, and spoke.

"  Are yeh alright, sir?  Dementor got yeh.  Put up one hell of a fight, though, yeh did."

Legolas just sat and stared at him in disgusted amazement.  How could something be so large and smell so bad, and be so kind?  He smiled a bit at the thought.  Hagrid turned briskly.  A knock had come at the door…


End file.
